A Small Box
by blank-fic
Summary: For my kink bingo "confined/caged" square.


One

Greg almost mentions it too lightly, almost fails to say all the words that Grissom needs to hear, needs to understand.

Gil is at his desk, and Greg is lingering around his office between cases and Gil wants to send him away with a pile of paperwork. The fact that Greg's at least doing -something-, staring intently at his fishtank with his pet crickets hopping about merrily on their twigs.

It isn't much, but Gil can't convince himself he has good reason to disturb him.

Greg ponders the insects in their tank for quite some time, rubbing his fingers along the plastic mesh prison keeping them inside at the top of the tank. He resists the urge to rub his fingers all over the glass and leave smudges: Grissom wouldn't like that. Greg slowly takes in a deep breath, and Gil doesn't hear him.

"Sometimes I want to be them." Greg declares, and Gil is confused.

"Crickets?" Gil asks, not looking away from Greg's fingers tapping along the top of the tank.

Greg nods. "Not just crickets," he elaborates with. "All of the bugs you keep here, Grissom, in your tiny cages."

"I don't understand." Gil says.

Greg nods, because part of him expected it. He wonders why he said anything, and wonders if Gil wont fire him the moment he realizes what he really meant. The only thing he says, though, is "nevermind", as he races out into the hallway to avoid further discussion and Grissom's further scrutiny.

Two

Gil doesn't know why he mentions it to Lady Heather over tea, but he has a feeling she'll be able to explain what it is that Greg had expressed to him the other day. The more he thought about the innocent, passing interaction, the more he realized it was anything but innocent or passing. Greg had confessed something to him, and he'd not seen it.

"Heather," Gil starts, ignoring the amused look she gives him at his open defiance. "I wanted to ask you something about a friend of mine, and I really do mean a friend," he says, noticing her doubting look. "Just the other day, the strangest thing happened with him. He was... well, I might as well tell you he's a co-worker, he was in my office. He was in my office, staring at my cricket tank of all things, and he said something that I can't quite wrap my head around."

Heather listens patiently, tea cup ignored on her table for the time being.

"I don't even know how to say this. He told me that he... envied the creatures I keep in there, that he wished to be like them. He specifically said that he wanted to be like them in -my- tiny cages." Grissom says, unsure if he's going to get anywhere by talking to Heather.

"And what'd you tell him?" Heather asks, smiling.

"That... I didn't understand. That I don't. I've been thinking a lot about what I said to him, and I should have given him -some- sign that I understood part of it, that he hadn't upset me. I didn't know the right things to say. I don't know the right things to say, as you know well."

Heather nods. "I can't tell you everything your friend means, but its obvious he's worked up the courage to tell you that he's attracted to you and your relentless perseverance. I believe you're not nearly as confused as you're making yourself out to be right now, and that you are trying to evade the very hard truth that you want it too."

Grissom blushes. Heather loves the way his face burns under his beard. "Yeah, maybe I do."

"So what'll you do about it?" Heather asks.

Grissom shakes his head slowly. "I'm not sure."

Lady Heather knows that the part of Grissom that stares at her cages and masks and productions of torture knows exactly the sorts of things his co-worker is asking for, and that he wants it. What she doesn't know is if that part can best the parts of his brain regulated by fear and doubt.

Three

It takes Grissom much time, and many cups of tea with Lady Heather, to work up the courage to talk to Greg again. When he finally invites Greg to get waffles for breakfast, Greg is pretty sure Gil's just going to politely reject him- or tell him that he thinks Greg should be reassigned to Miami or something.

It isn't that, though. Gil stares across the diner booth at Greg, who constantly fidgets. Gil isn't sure if it's the hyperactivity or anxiety talking. They sit with matching cups of coffee, and Greg barely manages to avoid insulting the cheap, terribly burnt scent coming from it.

"I like you, Greg," Gil begins, and he's not quite worked out where he's going to take it from there yet. Greg stares at him curiously. "I like you Greg, and I need you to tell me what you want from me."

Greg shakes his head just half an inch either way, and Gil frowns. "You're my boss."

Gil nods. "I am your boss. But I'm also your friend, and if there's something you need to talk to me about, I'm listening."

Greg's lips tighten for less than a second. "I already said too much."

Gil thinks. "Well, you're free to walk away and leave right now, and I wont be offended or treat you differently in any way. But if you stay, I'm going to tell you some of what I think," Gil says, gesturing towards the exit. Greg makes no move to leave, not even following Gil's wave with his eyes. "No, then? Well, I think it was a pretty brave thing telling me how you felt, and probably more than a little intimidating and embarrassing. After all, you didn't want me to think you were being ridiculous, or inappropriate? But what I think you meant to tell me was that some part of you related to the way that I confine things I value, Greg. I take my bugs and I put them in tiny boxes and I provide for everything in their lives and watch over their tiny boxes with my great big eyes that see everything. I'm having trouble, though, figuring out how- or if- you'd want that acted out in human-size scale, though." Gil finishes.

Greg presses his lips together in a moment of resistance all but seconds before speaking. "Can I come home with you on Tuesday and Wednesday when we're off... and just be, there, wherever you'll put me? And maybe we can talk more, then?"

Gil smiles. "This isn't a small enough box for you, huh?"

Greg nods. "No."

Gil reaches one hand out to touch Greg's. "I'd love to have you over, Greg."

Later, he'll fuss and worry over getting everything right as he has tea with Lady Heather. For now though, he is happy that the first of many issues they'll have is resolved.

He puts Greg in all sorts of boxes, after that. The first two days they negotiate the simple stuff- safe words (peaches for Greg- disgustingly fuzzy monsters, he says, and motorcycle for Gil) - limits. Gil almost isn't surprised when Greg says "no sex", but he can't help himself from asking if that's a limit with just him or with everyone. Greg gives Grissom a curious look. "If there is anyone in the world I would want sex with, if I did, it would be you." Gil can't bring himself to be bothered or surprised by this- he'll always respect Greg's limits even when Greg doesn't have a kink he himself does.

Those two days are spent with Greg given free roam of the house. Gil tells him to only leave the house if someone's safety is threatened, and Greg gives him a look that clearly conveys "duh", and spends the time exploring Grissom's house and getting used to the way Grissom stares at him- observes him.

Slowly they work their way up, limiting Greg to certain areas of the house, having Grissom spend more time at home providing supervision on the days they do "this". The walls keeping him out of the office are not tangible ones, but the barrier placed when Gil says "no" is as real as any other. Eventually they work their way up to more nights a week, until Greg is pretty much coming home with him after every shift and they start to discuss him moving in full time.

They experiment- Greg sleeps in the closet one night, and remarks that it is "dark and as cramped as a closet", vetoing it as a future location. Eventually they settle on a long cage with a mattress right in it, and Gil doesn't risk locking it- Greg is perfectly capable of staying put. Gil watches him sleep in it for a few hours during the first night, properly caged and contained, and wonders when _-this-_ became _-his-_ kink.

Greg can't explain how or why they made it work, why it works at all. Merely: Gil is a collector and Greg can't get enough of being Gil's greatest catch of all.


End file.
